Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them long enough to get them back on track.
Author's Note: This is written for Once Upon a Whim. The request will be included at the end of the story. Thanks so much to my betas, KineFille, iheartbridges, and Lula Bo for poking and prodding me so that I could figure out how to tell this story right. You all are awesome.
March 2007
"Do I go to the airport?"
"Huh?" Lorelai asks distractedly, as she marks something on the spring event calendar for the inn, which is spread across the diner counter next to the remains of her dinner. Glancing up, she looks startled to realize that the diner has quieted and that Luke is standing in front of her with a coffee pot. Giving him a sheepish smile, she says, "I'm sorry. Airport?"
"To meet April. Do I go to the airport?" He's been debating the question ever since he'd called Anna earlier to get the final details for April's spring break trip and Anna had reminded him yet again that she will be accompanying April and that they would be staying with a friend. Luke looks down at the countertop as he asks tentatively, "Or is that kind of lame? I mean, it's not like April's staying with me or anything, but…" He gives a shrug, letting out a slow breath as his shoulders fall.
Lorelai puts down her coffee cup and folds her arms in front of her on the counter, giving him her full attention. "You want to see her, right?"
"Of course I want to see her. It's been three months. But, I don't know…" He pauses, leaning into his hands and feeling the weight in his fingertips, as the chill of indecision takes hold of him. "Will that seem overbearing or something? I mean, I think it's really her friends she wants to see."
"Stop being ridiculous. Of course she wants to see you."
"I just…I want her to be excited to see me."
Lorelai's smile loosens the grip of his uncertainty. "She will be, Luke. She will be," she says, her voice reassuring. She picks up her coffee and takes another sip, then looks at him across the brim of her cup. "You know, though, what will make you the best dad ever?"
"What?" The note of desperation in his voice makes him feel pathetic.
"Who is the friend she misses the most?"
He evaluates for only a moment. "Lucy McAllister…Why?" he asks dubiously.
Lorelai's mouth drops open and she gives him a broad smile. "Check you out!"
"What?"
"You didn't even have to think about that."
He shrugs. "So, I know her friends."
"You do. And that's good. Why don't you take Lucy with you?"
He lifts his eyebrows, skeptical. "To the airport?"
"You totally win that way. You get to see April as soon as she gets here and it will mean a lot to her that you understand that she wants to see her friends."
"Okay," he says slowly, "I guess that means that I have to call Mrs. McAllister."
Lorelai nods. "Unless you have a carrier pigeon handy, yeah you will."
He grimaces. "I hate the phone."
It turns out to be an excellent suggestion. Once Lucy's mother had understood who he was, she'd told him it was thoughtful of him to think of her daughter, and Lucy had been thrilled to go. He's a little disappointed that April passes him by and runs toward her friend so enthusiastically, but once she's spent a few minutes in full-out chatter mode, she turns to Luke, wrapping her arms around his chest in a fierce hug, whispering, "I'm so glad you're here, Dad." She pulls back, smiling, "Thanks for coming, and for dragging Lucy along."
The whole situation is typical of the quiet little ways that Lorelai has been present in his life ever since he'd run into her in the weeks after April had left for New Mexico and Lorelai's marriage had ended. Everything had started with brief stops at the diner a couple of months ago and it's been casual, really, her company. She visits the diner and they talk. It's mostly small talk, little funny anecdotes about their days or news about progress she's making marketing the inn as a venue for functions. And he talks to her about April. He's come to depend on her as a sounding board, for the way that she encourages him, and for the advice she only offers when he asks.
When he looks back on all that's happened in the last year, he's a little amazed that he's let himself get used to seeing her regularly again. Between the determined avoidance in the months after they'd broken up and the strange awkwardness in their few chance encounters after she'd gotten married, he'd wondered if they'd ever be able to even be friends again.
But friendship has always come naturally to them; it's been the thing that's brought them together when events, other people, or their own stupidity have driven them apart. The estrangement after their broken engagement, though longer and more painful than the others, had ended the same way. When Lorelai had tentatively stepped back through the diner door, she'd seemed to sense his loneliness and had offered a friendly ear. It's always been her gift, he thinks, that she understands him well enough to know when he wants to talk and when he just wants companionship. And, it seems, the two of them can't escape their friendship when the other is truly in need, even when all circumstances are working against them.
Only once while she was married had she entered the diner, in the slow, still week between Christmas and New Year's. She'd opened the door with a hesitant push, and glanced guiltily around the diner before walking up to the counter and giving him a nervous smile.
"What can I get you?"
"Uh…Just a coffee and a muffin, I guess."
"Do you want that here or to go?" It had only been as he'd asked the question that he'd realized how much he'd wanted her to stay.
He shouldn't have been surprised by that revelation; he'd known he missed her. It's not something he had worked very hard to deny, but he'd let the time he'd spent with April mask that loss. With April gone and no one else with whom he spent any significant time, he'd felt lonelier than he remembered feeling in a long time.
"Uh…no…I should," she'd looked quickly around the diner again, then gestured toward the door with her thumb, "go. I need to get to the inn."
He'd nodded. "Okay." He'd tried to draw out the time, but it was only coffee and a muffin, so he'd gotten it poured and bagged all too quickly.
As he'd been turned away from her though, putting the lid on the coffee, she'd asked, "How's April? She heal up okay?"
There was this helpless feeling he'd gotten, still gets actually, whenever he thinks about April being off in New Mexico, this feeling of trying to gather up and hold something elusive, and the feeling of it slipping out of his fingers. It had made him almost knock over the coffee cup, but he'd taken a deep breath, steeled himself and turned around to slide the coffee and muffin across the counter to Lorelai.
"April moved to New Mexico with her mom," he'd said slowly, his eyes downcast but flickering up to meet hers when the words were completely out.
"She moved to New Mexico?" He'd watched her eyes widen dramatically and her jaw fall open in shock.
He'd just nodded.
"When? Why?"
"Just before Christmas. Anna's mother is sick and Anna needs to be closer to her, so…" he'd given a feeble wave, "so they had to move there."
"But," she'd stammered, "but, you were just…you'll be able to go see her, right? Or she'll come back to visit?"
Actually, he'd not been sure about any of it. The lawyer he'd seen had filed some papers, but they'd not been able to keep Anna from taking April, and frankly, Luke hadn't been sure he should. Luke had known the kinds of sacrifices people have to make when family members are sick. He'd just wished they had a firm plan for keeping in touch and for visits.
"We're still," he'd taken in a breath and let it out slowly, "uh, we're working that out."
Wrinkles of concern had formed in the space between her eyes and she'd asked, "Can you call her? I mean, can you at least talk to her?"
Her obvious compassion had touched him, that even after all the pain, all the time that had passed, he could hear such sincerity in her words. "Yeah, we've been…I've talked to her a few times since she left."
"Okay, that's good," she'd said, picking up the coffee cup and the bag. She'd paused then, looking back up at him and saying, her voice heartfelt and sad, "I really do hope that everything works out for you." He'd thanked her softly, and then she'd nodded, saying, "Well…I've got to go. Bye, Luke."
"Bye," he'd said simply, recognizing with a rush of sadness that they hadn't said 'see you later,' that there'd been no assumption of an immediate repeat visit. It hadn't been with any romantic longing that he'd thought this; it's just that it had been the first time since April had left, two weeks earlier, that he'd felt like someone had really understood just how much he must miss her. The irony isn't lost on him that the one person he'd kept away from April is the one who had shown the most concern for him since she'd left.
She'd headed to the door, but before opening it, she'd turned back and said, "Hey, Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really sorry…" She'd hesitated for a moment, her eyes downcast, enough to make him wonder what she was apologizing for, but then, looking up at him sadly, she'd added, "About April."
He hadn't been able to force words past the lump in his throat so he'd just nodded back at her.
She hadn't come back to the diner after that isolated visit and though he'd let himself hope that she would, he hadn't been surprised when she didn't. She'd looked nervous, a little uncomfortable, as if she thought she shouldn't be there and he had wondered how much of that was because of her husband, because she was with Christopher.
Over the next couple of weeks, he'd only caught quick glimpses of her in town, and he'd found himself strangely pleased that in most of those quick sightings she'd been alone.
He'd heard the gossip, of course, when it had ended. Not much in the way of details, snippets really. There had been fighting. He'd been seen spending more time at the local bar. And then he'd moved boxes out of her house.
Luke had had no idea how to receive the information that Lorelai and Christopher had split up, how he was supposed to feel about it. He'd known that he did feel relief, happiness even, that Christopher was out of Lorelai's life, but then wondered if he should have felt sad for her. That maybe if he were a better person, he would have wanted her to be with whoever could make her happy, even if it were Rory's deadbeat father. But no matter how much he'd run it over in his head, he couldn't make himself feel regret that she was no longer with Christopher .
A few days later, he'd run into Lorelai at the market. He'd noted, with a guilty conscience, that her skin looked pale and drawn, which had only served to make the purplish circles under her eyes more prominent. He'd been pleased that he hadn't had to work to summon sympathy for her, that when confronted with her unhappiness he could still try to be the friend she'd seemed to need. After a quick, friendly greeting, he'd looked her right in the eye and asked seriously, "Are you okay?"
Her lips had parted slightly and her eyes had looked wary, caught, before she'd shaken her head and said, "I'm fine."
"Well, okay," he'd paused, "as long as you're okay."
"I am," she'd said. "I'm good, I guess."
He'd nodded. "Well, come by if you need anything…if you want some coffee."
He'd seen something pass over her eyes then: regret, sadness perhaps, but it had been fleeting and then she'd lifted her chin, smiling weakly. "Okay. Yeah. I'll do that. Umm…thanks." She'd cringed then, sucking in and letting out a breath and saying again sincerely, "Thank you, Luke."
It had taken her a week, but she'd stopped in for coffee and a doughnut one morning on her way to the inn. During the brief stop they'd only had time to exchange the barest of greetings, but a few days later she'd been back and over the next month she stopped by more and more often and even started coming in every few days for dinner.
In the weeks that followed, they'd managed to rebuild a tentative friendship, to bring back a shade of their former closeness. It's been easier, he thinks, because of the unspoken rules they've developed: they haven't ever mentioned him, or her marriage, or their own failed engagement, or anything of substance really, except for April. He's even noticed that beyond general news from Yale she hasn't mentioned Rory much, and he has to wonder what kind of toll Lorelai's breakup has had on her daughter and on their relationship.
And, he wonders what the toll has been on Lorelai herself, how she's been affected by her whirlwind relationship and short-lived marriage. He can tell that she's lonely, but it's a subject they don't broach, and because of that, she's been the one doing most of the listening, and he doing most of the confiding. It doesn't seem like quite a fair balance, but frankly, he's needed her encouragement and he hopes that eventually he can return the favor. And for the time being, he can at least give her his company.
It's a few days into April's visit and though Lorelai and April have yet to cross paths, Lorelai asks Luke about their plans every morning when she stops in for coffee. Luke tries not to read too much into the fact that on the day April spends the afternoon at the diner, Lorelai doesn't come by for dinner.
It's as he's wondering about that, yet again, that he hears Lorelai ask, "So, what's April up to today? You were going to try to take her to dinner or do something tonight, right?"
"Yeah," he sighs. "I don't know about that though."
"What? Why?"
"Her friends really want to hang out with her again. She said they'd been trying to figure out something they could do together. She sounded really torn, so I don't want to make her have to choose."
"Well, don't make her choose then," she says matter-of-factly.
"That's what I was going to do," he says, a little impatiently. "Tell her to hang out with her friends."
"No," Lorelai corrects, shaking her head. "I mean, why don't you take them out somewhere?"
He eyes her skeptically. "You really think that a bunch of 13-year-olds are going to want to hang out with me?"
"Well, I don't know about her friends, but April obviously wants to see you." He can't help the little half-smile that escapes when he hears her speak with such certainty. "Do you know what were they planning to do?"
He shrugs. "I don't think they have definite plans. I'm not sure I want to know what teenage girls do when they 'hang out.'"
"Probably nothing too horrifying, I'm sure," she says, chuckling, "though you still might not want to know. But I'm sure there's something you could do that wouldn't freak you out too much." She wrinkles her nose thoughtfully. "I know! Bowling!"
"Bowling?"
"Yeah, I mean miniature golf would work too, but it's winter, so bowling."
He ponders a moment. "Huh. Bowling."
"Yeah, it's fun, social, not too athletic." She's watching him, her expression so earnest, he's struck once again by the simple fact of her support, and her presence.
"Bowling sounds…that could work," he says cautiously, though he's got this disturbing image in his head of a middle-aged man hanging around with a bunch of thirteen-year-old girls. "I just…don't you think that it will be weird, just me and April's friends?" He gestures toward Lorelai. "Maybe you could, I don't know, come with us?" He looks up at her hopefully.
She stills for a moment, and looks a little worried. "No, Luke. It's your...you don't need me hanging around." Her insistence, her fear even at the suggestion, hits him hard, especially in light of everything she's done in the last couple of months just by listening.
"Please?" he asks, the image in his head shifting as he pictures Lorelai joking with the girls, breaking the ice. She still looks hesitant though, so he tries another tack. "Look at it this way," he says lightly, "Harry and his friends really like Hagrid, but that doesn't mean that they want him hovering around all the time. But if he had someone to talk to, maybe they wouldn't think he was so annoying."
Lorelai's mouth drops open in shock and he eyes dance with amusement, "Holy crap, did you just make a Harry Potter reference?"
He shrugs. "I know things."
"Okay, then," she says, impressed. "So I guess that makes you Hagrid?" She pokes her lower lip out thoughtfully. "Hmm. I guess that fits. You know, I have to say, I think fatherhood has made you more hip."
He chuckles and then gives her a persuasive look, "So, will you come help make sure that I don't ruin my hip father status by doing something stupid?"
She looks a little uncertain but covers her hesitation by answering brightly, "Just so long as I don't have to be Madame Maxime. 'Cause she's like eight feet tall and everyone knows she a half-giant even though she denies it. And she's French-"
He lifts his eyebrows at her incomprehensible babble. "Lorelai, what the hell are you talking about? Will you come with us or what?"
"Yeah, if you insist," she says, giving him a grin, "but it's good to know you haven't been completely lost to the dark side of cool."
To be continued…